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Yir M'Phatter feet that ye're haverin' aboot was never slow when the Campbells was comin', I'll grant ye that the Campbells did them, ye ken that fine, Donald." "Hoots, wumman, ye dinna ken what yir sayin'. Div ye no' mind the battle o' the bluidy shirt, an' " "Haud yir wheesht I canna bide to hear aboot thae bluidy shirts an' things.
But I refrained, and began my retreat towards the door. "Bide a wee; I maun gie ye 'The MacGregor's Lament." But I was obstinate, having enough occasion for my own. "Hoots, man, dinna gang it's early yet." "But I really feel that I must go. I would sooner hear it some other time." At my own funeral, I meant. "Besides, Mr. M'Phatter, the bagpipes always influence me strangely.
But it was moved by Ronald M'Gregor, and seconded by Saunders M'Dermott, and unanimously carried, "That the clerk be instructed to inform Donald M'Phatter, and his wife Elsie M'Phatter, that it is the will of the kirk session of St. Cuthbert's that they be in no wise admitted to the sacrament except on presentation of tokens regularly stamped and bearing the date of 1845." WITH The WORKMEN
Wha can slip awa frae grace, forbye it be thae Methody buddies an' ither Armenian fowk, an' there was na ane o' them in the parish in the doctor's day. The fields was fine an' fu' o' wheat thae days, but there's muckle mustard noo, I tell ye that." "But you will surely admit, Mr. M'Phatter, that the nourishment of years ago will not suffice for to-day.
It was the winter of the strike, whose story I have already told, that Elsie M'Phatter heard the Voice which calls but once. Long and gentle had been the slope towards the river, and I held Elsie's hand every step of the way, myself striving to hold that other Hand which is truly visible only in the darkness; but the last stage of the journey came swift and suddenly.
This was the first step towards the return of the M'Phatter family to St. Cuthbert's Church.
True and tender visiting is the sermon's fuse, and what God hath put together no man can safely put asunder. One of my first visits was to the farmhouse of Donald M'Phatter, a belated member of the fold, for he and his wife Elsie had not beshadowed St. Cuthbert's door for many a year.
For perchance time itself is God's great midwife, and man's writhing agony is to the end that he may soon be born. The serious will doubtless wish to learn what befell me in my effort to beguile the rugged Donald M'Phatter and his wife, who had quit the kirk when the kirk quit the tokens, back to the worship of the sanctuary. It is many years since they returned to St.
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